At this moment, there was no longer any trace of former grandeur within the royal palace of the kingdom.
All the ministers, all the guards, even all the mages, lay sprawled chaotically across the ground, each with flushed faces, endlessly moaning, drowning in the agony of illness.
And visibly, growing ever weaker.
Some of the more elderly had even begun to show signs of respiratory distress.
Among them was the old King.
This man, still clad in his royal robes, had fully lost all the poise of a monarch; lying on the ground, an expression twisted in pain, he was now but an old man tormented by disease.
Only Aivlette still sat upon the throne, struggling to maintain an unfamiliar Mirror Image Magic with her own Magic Power, broadcasting to all citizens beyond the grand hall that she still stood with them.
Aivlette had never imagined that one day, under such circumstances, she would ascend the throne.
